


Marching Once More

by vallyum



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Camping, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fluff, Minor Spoilers, Plans For The Future, Post-Canon, entirely self indulgent 1am writing i hope it grants you some transient satisfaction, gatekeeper is minor sorry friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 11:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vallyum/pseuds/vallyum
Summary: In which Dorothea cannot resist for only a few days.





	Marching Once More

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on this thing, I suppose. This is the first fic I've done for this fandom, and for some reason, I decided to make it self-indulgent fluff I wrote far too long into the night. Well, regardless, I hope you enjoy it!

Ten more days, she thought. Just ten more days.

Dorothea never was one for marching. Despite her own prestigious position within the Black Eagle Strike Force, the many rituals of martial organisation did not come easy to her. Over the recent years, repetitious imperial activity had quietened the aches in her feet; the cries of her parched throat; the nagging of her joints. Despite the many parts of her it stole, the war had brewed a strange new confidence in her – she now found herself unable to doubt her own endurance. In addition to this, the many fire-forged bonds built over the war with her classmates lent her a great deal of comfort. The familiarity of the Academy’s friendly faces never failed to dull the many burdens shouldered by those of them who chose to fight under Edie’s banner. Travel never was much of a burden anymore.

However – this month’s march? Well, the presence of her closest ally might have been the problem. Ten days, she thought. Just ten more days, and she and Petra could finally be open to her (their?) people.

Now, the issue was never _theirs_, per se, and nor was it an issue regarding the attitudes of Brigid’s people. Dorothea refused to shy away from her tastes upon entering the academy, and while the vassal princess was more reserved in conversation, the woman’s preference for women was no closely-guarded intel during the later years of war. Really, by Fhridiad’s fall, their own blossoming relationship was open knowledge among the generals of the Strike Force. Brigid was not particularly divided on the matter, either; same-sex relations had long been recorded within the nation’s culture, yet the issue of an heir would inevitably cause a stir.

However, regardless of her own _opinions_ regarding the situation, playing the journey to Brigid as she would _like_ to was an objectively bad idea. If she wished to win over the trust of the archipelago’s common people – the announcement of an imperial general’s betrothal to the soon-to-be Queen of the nation as they return from the conquest of an entire continent for their liege state? The idea itself is absurd!

However, that failed to numb the longing. Dorothea wanted the affection of her beloved, regal politics be damned.

* * *

Garreg Mach was often cold. The modest dorms rented to the Academy’s commoners offered little protection from the chills heralded by the Red Wolf Moon. However – that little shelter provided warmth at all. With only the legions of Adrestian military men in their encampment, separated from her Petra, Dorothea’s only respite from the biting frost was her own expertise in fire casting. On prior nights of the march, this would provide comfort enough. _Frustratingly_, she thought, _magic flames cannot keep pining at bay_.

Fortunately, her partner’s royal tent was anchored only a few minute’s walk from her own. However, the night watch could still prove an issue to the planned offensive. Despite Petra’s own protests, Edie had still ordered a small regimen of watchmen to accompany the princess on her return westward. While the journey to Fódlan’s Fangs was a relatively short fortnight’s march across clear terrain, leaving the heir apparent to the Empire’s vassal unaccompanied on her return to Brigid territory was too valuable an opportunity for Edelgard’s enemies to consider. Although “The Slithers” – as the princess had affectionately dubbed them – had not come into conflict with the group in the early days of their journey, the watchful eyes of the Empire had not allowed themselves to grow relaxed in their practice.

This mattered not, however, as Dorothea gets what Dorothea wants.

“Dorothea?!”

Allowing her partner no time to protest, the songstress dived into the silk sheets covering an extravagant travel mattress, grabbing the purple-haired woman by the arm. Despite the burdens of travel, she appeared no worse for wear; the scent of her light herbal perfume permeated through the spacious tent. Dorothea paid particular attention to the princess’s loose hair – even in the nights they shared at the Monastery, the sight of her purple waves flowing free was a rarity, always seeming to be suspended in a simple ponytail or bonnet before sleep.

“Isn’t this place rather extravagant for a march? You really do know how to treat me right…” she teased, dragging the panicked woman into a strong embrace. Petra hushed herself and returned the gesture, yet still spoke to Dorothea in a panicked tone.

“Why did you come in here? I am most happy to see you, but the guards are still keeping watch!”

The brown-haired general laughed mischievously. “There’s no need to worry, my dear. I… took care of the night watch.” She once again ran a hand through her beloved’s hair, taking in the form, the shape, the smell. The slight cascades of Petra’s natural waves had been emphasised by the release of her traditional braiding in a manner in which Dorothea had never noticed before. The small inconsistencies and larger contrasts of its form blended together into a relaxed beauty she could only describe as bewitching.

“Dorothea! You should not bother yourself with the inconveniences of all of us present here!”

A brief silence hung in the air.

It was then rudely interrupted by the songstress’s short-lived attempt to stifle a giggle.

“Oh gosh! Petra!” Even in her hysterics, Dorothea made certain to muffle her laughter with her partner’s shoulder. Despite her extensive experience playing to the nobility, a hint of nervousness still underpinned her initial meeting with her classmates. In fact, the first event to break down her defences regarding her noble housemates was Brigid’s crown princess missing Caspar’s joke. The high spirits she took Dorothea’s correction in were what initially endeared her to the girl, sparking an initial connection and fast friendship. Despite the clear improvements in her Adrestian tongue – she still could not find the woman’s lapses in understanding adorable.

“You shall inform me of the cause later,” said woman replied. “For now, I am only glad to have you with me,” she whispered, pulling her fiancée closer to her chest, effortlessly entwining the taller woman’s limber legs with her own. Toned arms wrapped tighter around her lover, squeezing Dorothea at the waist with both hands.

If Petra had to describe her in one word, it would be soft. Soft skin, soft body, soft heart. Where Dorothea saw a rose stripped bare of beauty by the horrors of a precarious, unforgiving world, Petra saw instead a woman of immeasurable courage; one born from great injustice and strife – yet the most resilient, gentle spirit she had ever come to know. Despite her lofty responsibility to country and people, she had found a woman she could truly consider her partner.

Of course, her physical beauty merely complimented her soul. One could not discount it, however.

“I have been wanting you much,” she murmured into the general’s hair, soliciting a purr. Dorothea seldom had time to tighten her embrace before hearing shouting outside the tent.

“Princess Macneary! Are you okay–”

The two shot up in an instant, Dorothea wasting no time in holding a flame to the intruder’s face. Before them stood a rather indistinct guard sporting traditional light armour and a worn church-issued helmet. His advance stopped immediately upon witnessing the scene before him. He glanced away from the frustrated pair, his head tilting to the tent’s roof to conceal his embarrassment from the flame.

“Well, greetings, general! False alarm, I’m afraid. I’ve nothing to report!”

The man flashed a thumbs-up to the two, before retreating with _impressive_ agility for a common guardsman.

“Was that… the gatekeeper?”

“I am thinking it was.”

“Well… we couldn’t ask for anyone better to be on patrol, I suppose…” Dorothea chucked, wrapping her arms around her partner once more, the newfound security granting them some minutes of silent respite.

“Do you think things will all go smoothly?”

Dorothea shuffled, looking up at her partner. “What do you mean?”

“I am referring to our future. My coronation, our marriage, our independence…”

To her ears, Petra’s musings felt unreal. The songstress would be lying if she were to claim she felt no fear in facing their future. Still, she was at ease, clinging closer to her lover.

“I’m not entirely sure on how things will play out, myself. When we first met, I was still only the pretty girl of the opera. Six years later, and… well. I can’t lie – I still feel far out of my depth.”

Petra squeezed her partner’s hand, entangling their fingers in a gentle lock. “There is no other woman I know to be more qualified to be my wife than you, Dorothea.” Her beloved squeezed back, gazing into her eyes.

“Your words truly are comforting to me, Petra,” she replied, planting a chaste kiss upon the princess’s neck. For a brief moment, their legs left their union, as Dorothea adjusted herself to allow the shorter girl to rest upon the nook of her neck, now holding her partner softly against her body. “But – I really cannot lend more than myself. I’m not versed in the ways of negotiations, and I have little confidence in my abilities as a ruler.”

“But,” she stressed, planting another kiss – this time upon her partner’s forehead, “What I can give is my affection. We have Edie’s support, and you’re about the most qualified ruler I can think of!”

“More so than Edelgard?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “No one more. Edelgard can certainly wage a war… But, I think you will build a lasting peace.”

Were there any praise Petra needed at that given moment, it was that. Dagda, Leister, Faerghus… She had witnessed too much strife for a lifetime. “I want _us_ to build that peace. Together,” she returned, emphasised with her own kiss planted upon Dorothea’s cheek.

The Adrestian general gazed upon her with watery eyes, spirit singing with content. “I don’t think I’ve said it yet tonight, but – I truly do love you, Petra…”

She did not respond with words, nor any modest gesture of returned affections. The princess of Brigid instead locked lips with her lover, catering to their mutual desire with the attention it deserved. Their passion was unparalleled, and their kiss seemed as though it would continue deepening forever. A conversation of comforting noises of approval graced the senses of both women, neither wanting for the breath they were losing in their endeavour. By the time of their delayed separation, neither partner felt composed. As their hair mingled and the union between legs was finalised for the night, Petra’s final whisper lingered well into their dreams.

“I do want to be with you. Always.”

* * *

_Petra returned to her homeland of Brigid, and inherited the throne from her grandfather. As ruler, she declared independence from Fódlan, and renegotiated Brigid's diplomatic ties to that nation on more equal terms. At every step along the way, she was accompanied by Dorothea, who had left Fódlan behind to support her. Dorothea used the connections she had made in her time at the opera to her benefit, and even worked reluctantly with the Fódlan nobility for Petra's sake. The people of Brigid were skeptical of her at first, but warmed up to her over time. It is said that she became the person whom Petra loved the most._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thank you for reading through! I appreciate comments if you have the time. I just... love these girls, you know?


End file.
